by Sarah Mason
I nod at this. I had read about it, of course, seen it on the TV, but I had never had first-hand experience of it.
'Most of our land is farmland,' Simon continues. 'We rent a lot of it out but when things got tough Dad, being the man he is, lowered the rent. He also never raised the rent on the cottages, not in twenty years. The last chunk of our earnings, although it's marginal, comes from forestry and that has also suffered a decline.' I remember the abandoned sawmill on my tour with Will. 'Put all this together and we had virtually no income. Once I realised this, I knew I couldn't go back to university.'
I think of my own carefree existence at university and wonder what I would have done if this had happened to me. I wouldn't have been able to spot a profit and loss account back then if someone had brought it to me on a plate with watercress around it.
'Couldn't you have sold it all?'
'I thought about it. But I knew it would break Dad's heart and I couldn't do that to him after he'd just lost Mum. There were so many people to consider – Dad was beside himself with grief, Will was about to go to Cirencester and then Aunt Flo came to live with us. They all depended on the estate. Besides, I thought there was a chance I could turn it around. I didn't really tell anyone how bad it all was. I had to dismiss every member of staff we had, which left me extremely unpopular in the village, and then figure out a way to keep us afloat. I couldn't do anything in the short-term regarding the farmland and the forestry but I tried to let the cottages out. The problem was they had fallen into so much disrepair. We've managed to restore a couple but I then had to evict the tenants when they wouldn't pay the market rate for them, which is, of course, nearly three times the price they are paying now. I wanted to diversify. Have pheasant shoots, open up the house, outdoor concerts. But when I did the maths, I found that it all needed so much money to start up.'
'What about something like this charity ball? You're making some money from that?'
'Hardly anything, Isabel. Besides, if you do it regularly it needs marketing, which costs more money, and events don't just fall into your lap. And I didn't want anyone looking too closely at the house in case they sussed out how much money it needed spending on it.'
'I just thought you'd neglected it.'
'The maintenance costs are astronomical. So I decided to try to make some money. I had a flair for business so I thought that if I could just make a few hundred thousand then perhaps we would have enough to start again. I had nothing to lose at the start so I took risks. Things went well, I discovered I had a talent for M&A and—'
'What's that?' I ask suspiciously. It sounds vaguely kinky.
'Mergers and acquisitions. Takeovers and so on. Take over a company in trouble, split it up and sell it off. You see, Isabel, it was all a carefully constructed façade. The investment banks were happy to invest their money in me once they had visited Pantiles. I waved a bit of the old school tie and Cambridge blue stuff around as well and used their money to take over businesses. At a healthy profit for them, of course.'
'Couldn't you use them to help Pantiles? Use them to help you diversify?'
'They would want to see the house accounts then. They would have to know how much trouble we are in. They wouldn't touch us after that. People presume you have money if you have a lot of assets. We did have some luck – Will came back from travelling and took on the job of estate manager. Mrs Delaney arrived then and was perfectly happy to live in and take a small wage. She keeps the furniture sparkling while the roof practically falls in around us. We had to close up a couple of wings but no one was any the wiser. And I make sure the gardens are kept up; old Fred tends to them in return for one of the estate cottages rent-free. I own a BMW and a few flash suits, the usual trappings of a successful businessman. There are no obvious signs that anything is wrong.'
'I didn't have any idea,' I whisper.
'You wouldn't have. No one does.'
'But you've completed other takeovers. I read about them in the paper.'
'Any money I made I ploughed straight back into the next takeover, using a little here and there to start making some changes at Pantiles. Repairing some of the cottages, that sort of thing. This was going to be my last business venture. I've ploughed every last penny of the company's money into it. We'd have had enough money to clean our slate, buy the house back and invest in the future.'
He stares down at the floor. I feel quite weak with all this information.
He looks up and misinterprets my expression, 'Don't look so worried, Isabel, I'm not going to sue you. Or tell your company.'
'I'm not worried about that.' Oh no, I'm worried that I won't be able to survive under the weight of all this guilt. Someone will find me in a few years' time, squashed as flat as a pancake like a cartoon character. Completely selfish, of course.
'But the papers,' I say. 'They always said what a success you were, how much money you had …'
'Ahh, the papers. Another carefully constructed spin. The first time they got their facts wrong about something, I found it made my life easier. Every negotiation was less of a trial. It was a bit like the old warlords; they went to huge lengths to frighten their opponents and often found they'd won before any fighting took place. My reputation preceded me. People were bending over backwards to give me money. So the stories were carefully released and I found I could walk into a boardroom and the white flag would already be up.'
'So is the takeover really ruined?'
'It is if the American shareholders really are going to back Wings. We need their shares in order to take over the company. I'm waiting for the head man to call me back.'
'What are you going to say?'
'I don't know. But I need to convince them that parting with their shares would still be a good idea. If they think for one second that I'm not going to perform my half of the bargain, they'll stick with Wings and their promises of a brighter future.' He gets up, walks over to the window and stares out. 'The press will be up here soon, they've been calling all morning. They'll find out about the bailiffs and it'll be splashed all over the papers tomorrow, which is not going to help. It will look as though I can't buy one share let alone half a million, despite what my backers say to the contrary. You'd be surprised how bailiffs panic people.'
Actually, I wouldn't be surprised at all. The mere mention of their name sent the fear of God through me.
Simon turns from the window and smiles at me. How can he be so calm when his whole world has just fallen around his ears? 'It was my own fault in a way,' he says wearily. 'I was playing a dangerous game with the press. We were careful about what we released to them, but it was only a matter of time before they started digging for some dirt. Rob Gillingham offered it to them on a plate. A pity it had to happen now, that's all.'
'Could you keep up the payments on the house while you organise another takeover?' I ask, desperately fishing about for a solution.
'They take years to set up – you need the financial backing for a start. Besides, I poured all of our money into this one. And if so much rests on reputation, what will mine be like after all this? The bailiffs have removed every single scrap of furniture from my home.' He smiles more faintly. 'Isabel, it's not your problem.'
No, buster. I'm not going anywhere until I feel better. And that won't be until I've done something to help. I struggle for a moment with the irony that I actually want to help Simon but I have to concede that he's not behaving as I thought he would. 'Simon, I grew up in this house. They might not have always been the happiest times of my life' – he has the grace to look uncomfortable at this – 'but I still care what happens to you all. And it's partly my fault because of Rob.'
'He would still have got that information, Izzy.' This is the first time he has called me that since I arrived. 'With or without you.'
'I just made it easy for him,' I say miserably.
'Come on, let's go through to the kitchen. It's a bit of a relief that the family now know. I never wanted to worry them with how bad things wer
e. Poor things, they probably just thought I was being stingy. No fires during the day, insisting the dogs were fed out of a tin instead of with organic chickens. Only Will knew the truth.' He smiles wryly.
'Will knew?'
Simon looks at me curiously. 'Yes, he guessed. I obviously tried to make light of it for him but he's the estate manager, Izzy. How could he not have guessed?'
'But he was saying how …'
'How what?'
'Nothing.'
I watch Simon walk out of the room. Will knew and yet still led me to believe that Simon was as bad as people said. Interesting.
I follow Simon but pause thoughtfully in the hall and look up at the wall above the fireplace. I know exactly what is missing. A painting. A very valuable painting. Of course it would have been one of the very first things to be sold. I enter the kitchen where the wake is still in full swing.
'Want to go fishing, Harry?' Simon offers. Harry nods eagerly; the atmosphere in the kitchen is a little oppressive to say the least. He leaps up from the table and goes through to the utility room to collect the gear. I just hope the bailiffs haven't taken it.
'What about your phone call, Simon?' I ask.
'Got my mobile.' He pats his pocket. 'They can still reach me.'
And with this, he and Harry open the back door and walk out into the sunshine.
C h a p t e r 15
Which leaves the rest of us in the kitchen. 'Izzy, what on earth are you wearing?' asks Aunt Flo. Her family home is in imminent danger of being repossessed and she still manages to comment on my fashion faux pas.
I look down at myself. With thoughts of my impending doom rather than my wardrobe most prominent in my mind this morning, I have managed to dress myself in an eclectic mix of clothes. Rather cleverly, I have picked every mismatching piece of clothing I have with me and then put them all on together. A smart mini-skirt teamed with flip-flops and a rugby shirt that I'm not sure is mine.
'Yes. Well. I was thinking of other things,' I murmur.
Personally I would like to retire somewhere private to lick my wounds but the rest of the family are determined to extract all the information they can from me. Thankfully, the bailiffs have left most of the stuff in the kitchen. At Monty's invitation, I pull out a chair and flop into it.
'Simon thought you were still seeing Rob Gillingham?' ventures Monty.
'Yes, but we really did finish about a month ago. However, I saw Rob the other night and he asked me some questions about Simon. I thought he was just being interested.'
'See?' says Aunt Flo triumphantly. 'I told Simon there must have been a mix-up somewhere! But he kept whittling on about something happening when you were children!'
'I didn't tell Rob those things in the paper,' I press on hastily. 'Simon thinks Rob must have spoken to the evicted tenants and then told the press.'
There's a small pause as everyone digests this information. 'I'll make you some coffee. You look all in,' says Mrs Delaney, getting up and bustling over to the kettle. People can be kind.
'Thanks,' I murmur.
'I blame myself,' announces Monty eventually, breaking the silence. Mrs Delaney plonks a fresh cafetière of coffee on the table and a clean mug in front of me. 'If Pantiles hadn't been in such a bad way in the first place, Simon wouldn't be involved in this takeover. I was never much of a businessman.'
'You couldn't have known that the farming industry was going to decline so dramatically, dear. And you were just trying to be good to the villagers, letting them stay on in the cottages like that,' says Flo, putting a hand over his.
'I always thought I had a duty towards the village.'
'Come on, Dad! None of us knew how bad a state the place was in,' says Will.
I find myself looking at him in astonishment. He immediately colours. He knows that I know. And I know that he knows that I know. And he knows that I know, etc, etc. Suddenly I don't see the handsome young man any more, I see a little boy who is annoyed with his brother.
'You still have the house,' I offer up hopefully, to cover his embarrassment.
'For how long? The place is practically falling in around our ears, and then there's the mortgage payments to be kept up with.'
'How have you been paying them up to now?'
'With Simon's profit, of course It looks like all that may stop now.'
I bite my lip and feel terrible. Flo notices my distress and leans over to pat my knee.
'Do you think the charity ball will still go ahead?' I ask in general.
'We couldn't let them down again. And we could really do with that money now!' says Monty. 'Have you got any meetings today, Izzy?
'This afternoon but I'll put them off."
There's a loud knock at the back door and we all jump. Dominic pokes his head into the room. 'Can I come in? Aren't you amazing, you country folk, leaving your doors unlocked. Are you planning to execute Izzy at dawn?'
'God, Dom!' I say, jumping up and throwing my arms around him. 'I've never been so pleased to see you in my life!'
'And I'm not carrying any food either! Astonishing!'
'What are you doing here?'
'I gave in my notice at work! Just walked out and came straight here!'
'Oh Dom, you shouldn't have done that!'
'Don't worry, I was having a really boring morning until you called. You galvanised me into action at last! Besides, I thought you might want me around.' He links his arm through mine. 'Actually, I feel marvellous!' he pronounces. He looks at the gloomy faces before him. 'Well, obviously not marvellous about the takeover thing. That's awful, simply awful.' He beams and tries not to look too ecstatic about life in general. We don't get out much.
In fact, everyone seems jolly pleased to see him. Monty and Will pump his arm while Aunt Flo plants a kiss on his cheek. 'Do shut the door, dear,' says Aunt Flo. 'People keep not shutting it properly and the postman fell in yesterday. The dogs were so surprised they didn't know what to do with him.'
'So what's happened?' asks Dom.
I quickly explain about the takeover and Rob. Dom looks absolutely incensed.
'Well, I'm bloody glad I handed my notice in now! I couldn't have worked for him any longer! What a louse!'
'You worked for him?' asks Monty, puzzled.
'Only in the claims department. It was my day job. I actually want to write a novel.'
'Oh really? What about?' asks Aunt Flo chattily.
'You didn't mention to Rob that I was working here, did you?' I say suddenly, ignoring Flo.
Dom looks slightly uncomfortable, 'Well, not to him directly. But I might have mentioned it in the office. It's lucky he didn't know I was working here too. God knows what I would have told him!'
We all fall into silence. Eventually I whisper, 'What do you think Simon is going to do?'
Everyone looks blankly at each other. I excuse myself, pick up my bag, which is still by the door, and go to my room. I mill about for a while, unpacking my bag, painting my toenails for want of something better to do and thinking. Rob was using me for information. He was using me. I repeat this to myself again and again. He was using me to keep his place on a board of directors. I knew he was ambitious but I had no idea quite how ambitious.
Rob and his cronies must be out celebrating right now. I picture him easing a champagne cork out of a bottle, a grin right across his face. He will be boasting about how he brought down Simon Monkwell almost single-handedly. Almost but not quite, because I managed to play my part too.
I lie on my bed and eye the room. My bag is lying by the side of the bed and on an impulse I drag it towards me. I get out my purse and eye a photo of Rob that I haven't quite got around to removing yet. It's a photo I nicked from his flat – he hated it on sight and threw it away but I carefully fished it out of the bin while he was in the loo. It's thus that Dominic finds me.
'Hellooo, my little dollop of sunshine. The family has just been telling me about the bailiffs! So this is a little worse than it first appears. If that'
s possible.' He sits down on the bed. 'How are you feeling?' He pulls a face to indicate that his bet would be 'not so good'.
'Not so good.'
'Which bit in particular is bothering you? Your ex-boyfriend wanting to shag you for information or the bringing down of an empire?' You know, sometimes Dominic just isn't very funny.
'Bit of both.'
'It's kind of a double-whammy isn't it?'
'Simon was nicer than I expected once I'd explained. I honestly thought he was going to go mad and fire me.'
'Well, he could have done. Do you suppose Rob thought about that? That you could actually lose your job?' This isn't a real question, he's just trying to build up the bad feeling in me against Rob.
He looks down at the photo. 'Give me the photo, Izzy. Hand it over.'
'What are you going to do with it?'
'Burn it. I will not have you drooling over a man as despicable as he is.'
'I'm not drooling over him. I'm just trying to make some sense of it all,' I say sulkily.
'You should be furious!'
'I am a bit,' I say crossly, sitting up suddenly and swinging my legs around so I'm sitting next to Dom.
'A bit?' roars Dom. 'You should want to tear him limb from limb! Christ, I want to tear him limb from limb! If I hadn't just resigned from his sodding company then I would be doing so now! And I hope you're not going to let him get away with this.'
Actually that was exactly what I was planning to do.
'No,' I say in a very small voice, shifting position again.
